Contentment
by Allekha
Summary: Perhaps there is no hope left for the Angels. Perhaps there is some happiness left for Raphael. (Raphael/Michael)


A/N: Written for roseargent for Beyond Panels 2014.

* * *

Perhaps there is no hope left for the Angels.

The black cancer poisons them with no way to stop it. So many of them lust after their own sex and cannot help it even with laws that promise death. And no matter how they clamor for more children or how many incentives they give out or how hard they _try_, the birthrate only falls and falls.

The Earthian are destroying their planet and flourish, while the Angels are destroying themselves as Eden blooms around them.

"The Earthian are the same as any species. They were born on this planet to love. And the Earth won't turn its back on the Earthian. That is the meaning of love."

"What's so wrong about two people loving each other? I love him!"

Naive, young, the both of them. And yet they have each other and the Earth will be safe beneath them. There is nothing for it but to retreat. Let the Earthian destroy their precious home; it isn't worth saving, and they aren't worth destroying at the cost of his life and those of the other Angels on the Metatron.

When Raphael finally makes his way back to Eden – his own blue-green marble misted over with white clouds – he goes first to Gabriel. On seeing him she crushes him in a hug, burying her face against his shoulder. "I'm glad you're safe," she says into his sleeve. That night they sit in the same bed and she combs his hair, braiding and unbraiding sections of it as she tells him of what has been going on. Most of it he knows already, but he listens quietly all the same.

Knowledge spreads quickly. That they attacked the Earth without ten thousand minuses, that they were repelled, that perhaps the vigor of Earth might save the Angels – once people begin to talk there is no stopping them. But what good will the knowledge do them? The Angels have been in decline for ages and ages. Perhaps if they try it might be reversed, but change takes so much effort, and the Angels have had their ways for millions of years.

He goes next to Michael. "You had me pardoned," he says. Frankly, he looks terrible, bags under his eyes and his hair frizzing a little as if it hasn't been brushed properly.

"It would be such a shame to keep you in prison for your life, given that the Angels need their leadership now more than ever. Besides, the Black Angels were able to repel even the Metatron; it isn't fair to insist that you should have fought one off yourself, with your son right there."

Michael calls him a traitor, but he doesn't protest much when Raphael makes tea, instead slumping in his chair as if he hasn't slept all week. Perhaps he hasn't. He always was so terrible at taking care of himself.

Raphael serves him what's left of the tea – the cupboard is almost empty – and they sit by a window. Outside, it is cloudy, the light weak. Michael's hair still seems to glow dimly despite the lack of sunlight.

Perhaps they are doing things wrong. Perhaps Eden is turning its back upon them. Perhaps he is simply tired that everyone who breaks the rules gets what they want anyway – Gabriel, Lucifel, Chihaya and Kagetsuya.

"Ah." Michael draws the cup away from his mouth and sets it down. It is still steaming – likely it was too hot to sip from yet.

"Did you burn your tongue?" Raphael asks, already leaning in.

He doesn't give Michael a chance to reply before setting their mouths together.

When they pull away from each other, Michael looks at him steadily. He seems very, very tired. "Homosexual love is illegal." Words that they have said over and over hundreds of time. "You should love Gabriel."

"I do. But she isn't the one I love most, and I am not the one she loves most."

"The penalty is death."

"Will you report us?"

They are alone, the two of them. If anyone sees them, He will not say anything, not as far as Raphael can tell.

Michael does not reply. Instead he clutches to the lapels of Raphael's jacket when they come together again, tangles his hands into the length of Raphael's hair until he could not choose to leave even if he wished to. Raphael slides his hand down Michael's cheek, down his arm. It is not quite like how he imagined it would feel, when he and Gabriel tried to create a child every mating season, their minds and hearts on other people. But this Michael is warm and real before him.

They have teased and denied each other so long – they soon end up in Michael's bed. It has not been made, so they push the twisted covers to the side and lose themselves in each other. It is not like the times with Gabriel. Here desire burns hot between them, no impossible duty hanging over them for the moment.

Afterward, they lay together. Raphael cannot help but keep stroking Michael's golden hair that he has always, always wanted to touch. Michael sighs and finds Raphael's other hand, holds it between his even after he falls asleep. For a long time, Raphael watches him, the movement of his pretty eyes beneath the lids, and listens to the slow sound of his breath.

If this love between them really is a sin against God, let them throw themselves into Hell together. And perhaps Kagetsuya and Chihaya are right, and love is simply love. (And Lucifel is certainly wrong, and Raphael will never consider any other possibility.)

Raphael does not hold much hope for the survival of the Angels. He will do his part to try and ensure that they continue to exist – he will mate with Gabriel and try his best to have a child with her. But at least if their species is doomed to erase itself from Eden, he will see it having known Michael's touch.


End file.
